


In the Name of the Seven

by GoodQueen, Lord_Tywins_Hand



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canon-Typical Violence, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-17
Updated: 2021-01-17
Packaged: 2021-03-15 17:47:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,209
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28817301
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GoodQueen/pseuds/GoodQueen, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lord_Tywins_Hand/pseuds/Lord_Tywins_Hand
Summary: This is the song of King Durran of House Baratheon, First of His Name, his life, love, wars, politics, victories, and struggles.
Relationships: Jaime Lannister/Sansa Stark, Margaery Tyrell/Original Male Character(s)
Comments: 11
Kudos: 13





	In the Name of the Seven

Wind had blew from the Flea Bottom.

Morning at King's Landing welcomed the residents of Red Keep with the scent of flowers mixed with the smell of sewage from the largest city in Westeros. Although the steward did what she could, the air quality was so different from Casterly Rock that the young prince had to have a basin by his bedside for possible vomiting.

King Robert I Baratheon summoned his son Durran on "an important matter." Durran, the Young Prince, dressed with irritation hidden deep in his heart, to meet the demands of the king and his father. Big game huntings, sitting at feasts, drinking in the night, and warming the bed with the women of easy vrtue weren't among Durran's favorite activities, but he couldn't argue, it wasn’t how he was raised by his grandfather, Lord Lannister, Lord Paramount of the West and Lord of Casterly Rock, a seasoned politician and great strategist.

Ever since Lord Hand Jon Arryn died, Durran has practically lived at court like a real firstborn son should. His body was still getting used to the terrible sanitation of the city, but it was going smoothly, without any serious diseases. The servants had strict guidelines that the prince was to receive only tea or boiled water, always well-baked meat, and for breakfast he should be served porridge, healthy, though boring and not always worthy of the royal table, which the old septa of the Westerlands for years had been seasoning her "Prince Durry" with honey and seasonal fruit, carefully washed.

After eating, Durran looked at himself in the mirror. Slightly surprised, he noticed that the young nobles very quickly began to imitate his style of dress - simpler, but often decorative caftans with tied sleeves and a snow-white shirt visible from underneath, a sign of wealth and neatness at the same time - for a month at the court, clothes and customs imported from Westerlands suddenly became fashionable. _Courtiers and vanity!_ the prince sighed silently. _If I attached a carrot instead of a nose, the next day they would strip the stalls of these vegetables ... But if it would make them wash more often and smell less ..._

He kissed the old septa's hand in a gesture perhaps exaggerated, but respectful of her endeavors, and headed for the royal chambers.

As Durran approached his father's chamber, Meryn Trant signaled as usual that the king had not yet finished his meeting with the other "subjects," as evidenced by the sounds of lovemaking outside the door.

The prince shook his head and leaned against the wall, waiting. _Goddamn drunk whoremonger, how can my mother stand him?_ he thought. For a long time, his heart had grown resentment towards his father, who became ruler only by accident, and as for the kingship in him, there was nothing at all.

He had a chat with the White Guardian - they were talking about the weather, about how feel feel, and about all the trivial things you deal with your neighbor when you queue up for fish at the market once a week.

Finally, the door swung open at breakneck speed, and two ladies of the night on the way fell out, only a little confused, awkwardly curtsying, "Your Grace" on their lips. When they saw Durran, the skillful observer would have thought that they were about to give him a big discount.

The young prince, however, did not like companionship. He considered the use of their services as a practice that offended the prestige of the king, who should set an example by his behavior.

 _Since the gods have lowered standards so low, it's no wonder this country is in turmoil._ he thought and entered the chamber.

As usual, his father was sitting on the chair, munching on goblet after goblet. The poor seat had not collapsed so far under the Baratheon's "mightness," but the king had to sit on a solid oak, while Durran was contenting himself with the lighter furniture. On seeing his son, Robert only laughed and motioned for him to come closer.

Durran put on a mask of filial respect and stood calmly at his desk.

\- Your Grace. he said bowing.

\- Durran, dear boy! We're going to Winterfell! - Robert announced, dipping his goblet as Durran chilled.

\- But how?

\- On a horseback, how do you think?

\- But, but now!?

\- We're leaving tonight. There is no such heat from heaven at night, and it is better not to boil you, because your predatory mother will smash my balls ... - Robert commented, pouring himself another goblet.

 _He got drunk to blabbering such a rubbish?_ Durran thought, a little angry at his father's choice of words. The mother did not deserve this treatment. Yes, she was a difficult woman, but that didn't justify the red mark on her face left by her husband as late as yesterday.

\- Hmm ... I'm glad, Father. I'll finally see Winterfell, and the Wall ... But you surely aren't taking me there to make my childhood dream come true? - Durran asked with a piercing stare. Robert felt uncomfortable, like most people, when the prince stared at them with his gaze so much like the one of the Old Lion.

\- Eh, how could I have thought you wouldn't see right through me ... Lord Stark's daughter, the older one, is old enough to be married.

Durran felt as if the whole world was about to fall on his head and then kick his ass. Above all, he wanted Margaery Tyrell, and never even looked twice at another maiden and he didn’t want a fiancée from the end of the world!

\- Do you ... Do you ... Do you want to marry me with Stark girl? - Durran asked silently.

\- Yes, but why do you look like if someone put your cock in a vise?

\- But, but I don't know her at all! I've never even saw her.

\- Ned is my friend, we've been thinking about joining the two families for a long time. Don't brood. – he muttered pouring himself red liquid. - She is said to be a beautiful girl and she is very good at it, well! ... Well, what are women adept at, starting with knitting and singing.

\- Father ... I don't turn my nose at a noble bride, but I think it's a wrong move. Why do I need a wife from the end of the world, if there are other, more powerful families a stone's throw away?

\- You don't want to bring any more Lannisters to my court, don’t you, hm?!

Durran felt hot with anger, but that, of course, wasn't his intention.

\- Father, I think this is a very good idea, but we shouldn't rush. – he played to buy himself a time. – That is true, you haven't seen Lord Stark in a long time, and the young ladies mother will surely be happy to send them for a court for a while. Let them come here and see how the situation unfolds. You don't want to cause trouble for your friend, perhaps Lord Bolton himself drew attention to her? You know how difficult it is to control the Northerners, Lord Stark cannot offend his vassals.

Durran was a mess, though he tried not to let it show. If he doesn't come up with something, he will become a copy of his father, stuck in an unhappy marriage due to the ties of friendship between the fathers. He did not want Lady Sansa Stark to share the fate of many wives who had no joy in their marriages but only obligations and grief. He knew they would both be unhappy, and he swore to himself that he would never become like his father, who still mourns Lyanna Stark and has no warm feelings for his mother.

Robert grunted, ruffled his hair, and stared at his son with a look that gleamed with a trace of his former sharpness.

\- You're Old Lion's grandson more than my own son ... But! - he slapped his huge hand on the huge thigh. - It has to be be good for the kingdom, I’ve had no patience with politics. You always think two steps ahead. Whatever you like, but if Bolton tries to steal Sansa from under our noses, I'll nail him to his own crest shield and put him upside down. He has been tormenting me for months to legalise his bastard, never in my damned life! You see, Ned is an honest man - he educates his, but does not exalt his rightful children! You should surround yourself with such friends! - he waved his paw decorated with a gold ring as a sign that the "audience" was over and roared for a bath.

Durran bowed, rolling his eyes at this wisdom, and hurriedly headed for the Hand's Tower. If anyone was to help him, it would be only his grandfather to whom he could always go in any case and he knew that he would not refuse to help.

Unlike his younger, clunky and vain brother Joffrey, Durran never had trouble climbing many ranks. Growing up on the great cliff of Casterly Rock had many good consequences, such as not being out of breath. At last he stood in front of the door to the Hands's solar. The Lannister guard let him pass, and Durran knocked on the door. The secretary opened it. Durran stepped in confidently. Tywin Lannister worked at his desk as usual, writing successive letters and edicts. Out of habit the secretary went out and left them alone.

\- Grandfather, please help me. My father has another great idea. He wants me to marry Sansa Stark… - Durran said resignedly, leaning against the desk.

The Old Lion put down his quill.

\- You, young people, you seem to consider every arranged marriage as the same evil, and most often it is the other way round, because your parents know you better than you know yourself. Sansa Stark is the key to the North for us. Everyone has heard of her beauty, surpassing Catelyn Stark, and her numerous talents. What's wrong with that?

\- Grandfather, do you remember on who’s view I almost fell off my horse at that tournament two years ago?

\- Remind me. - something like a smile appeared on the Lord Hand's lips.

\- Margaery Tyrell ... How did she look at me then ... - Durran said in a dreamy voice, something he didn't often do. He was a hard man, little known for his daydreaming.

\- Margeary Tyrell is her grandmother’s, the Queen of Thorns, granddaughter, well-bred and knowledgeable about the kingdom, yes, but very ambitious, if not calculating, and older than you. - Tywin glared at his grandson.

\- But we should make alliances ... closer to the capital! What an alliance would it be with Winterfell, if the journey from there lasts almost fortnight and the army would march even longer! And besides, Winter is coming, as the Starks say, so I'd prefer obligated Tyrells than hungry Starks demanding supplies! Of course, I wouldn't leave any land without help, but ... Tell me, that you understand ...

\- I understand and, leaving your youthful infatuation aside, I must admit that the alliance with the Tyrells would be more pleasing to me ... But what about lady Sansa then? And possibly an offended Stark? While I have some concerns about both marriages, I prefer to keep the Starks close, but the Tyrells even closer. - The Lion folded his fingers into a pyramid. – Buy yourself some time. Let them come here, avoid the engagement by explaining it to the still young age, and I'll do my best to get Lady Tyrell and Lord Stark to cooperate.

\- That's exactly what I did, grandfather. - Durran breathed. - You will see, everything will be fine, Margeary will be a wonderful queen, and we will find a good husband for lady Sansa! Thank you grandpa! - the Young Prince hugged his mentor impulsively and ran out of the chamber with a hasty bow.

Tywin Lannister picked up his quill, but didn't go back to writing, just played with it glumly. The secretary, who had meanwhile returned, waited patiently for orders.

\- Nathan, who do we have in the North? - Lord Hand asked calmly.

\- A kitchen maid, a groom, two wenches in Wintertown…- He broke off in understanding at an urgent wave of lord’s hand. - I'm afraid no one is that high, my lord.

\- Summon Merryn Trant. Don't rush it, let him come after he’ll be done with his duties.

Around midday, Trant appeared in the Tower.

\- Is it still going on? - Tywin asked without preamble.

\- What, my Lord Hand? Ah… I'm afraid so.

The Old Lion nodded grimly.

\- The young prince must see this, or they'll deny everything. Understand? It must be done discreetly, but so that there will be no doubt. I can't believe it myself yet. - he added after a moment of silence. - You will go with them to Winterfell, you’ll find an opportunity, but be careful. Do not doubt that you are doing this for the good of the realm.

\- I understand my Lord Hand and I have no doubts.

\- And that's for expenses. I will reward your efforts when you’ll come back. - he handed the knight a small purse, and when the knight left with a low bow, he began to write.

The secretary pretended not to hear anything, but discreetly wrote down in the book: "News and rumors - 20 silver stags.”

**Author's Note:**

> I'm a new Creator - I hope that you'll like my Original Character and my work. / Lord_Tywins_Hand
> 
> This is gonna be huge, this is gonna be hard... "Tread softly…" Because you tread on our dreams :) / GoodQueen


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